Kingdom Hearts: New Epic The First
by ViandasJohnson
Summary: Credit for the 'verse goes to the utterly brilliant LordCavendish, and I am forever grateful I was given this opportunity. Following the end of Final Confrontation, the worlds were at ease. However, with a quake echoing from the formerly inert Hell's Vortex device used by Lord Cavendish, a long forgotten force stirs to awakening. The spectre of war begins to form yet again...
1. Chapter 1

Credit to the 'verse to LordCavendish, my inspiration. Disclaimer; I do not own any characters in this fic except original characters of my own creation.

Prologue: The Wolf King

Oceansburg, the central world of the Grand Universal Alliance, the now-wizened force of order in the universe, its only rival being the emergent DRA, which existed primarily in the worlds further off from the main worlds visited by Sora and company. Following the retirement of President Sneer, the Alliance was headed by the stalwart Alric Maynes, who promised the people of the Alliance "a return to normalcy."

Indeed, nobody wanted a new war, except for some odd portions of the Imperial forces that did not seem to recognize the war with the Imperial Axis had ended. Well, them aside, it seemed to be that the forces of the worlds had finally achieved some measure of quiet.

Granted, this was not constant – in addition to the last vestiges of Imperial power, it was whispered that denizens of the realms of Darkness, Demons, some called them, had emerged into the Worlds of Light, and were causing chaos at the frontiers.

However, following a punitive expedition, it appeared this disturbance had quieted itself down. Alric's Normalcy resumed seamlessly. Even as the people of the last age, those who fought the Imperial Powers, aged or died, it seemed they were not needed.

Their sons and grandsons could be counted on to lead the people of the worlds into a new age of prosperity and peace. While there was some worry about the intentions of the far off DRA, nobody really paid them much mind.

The forces of the Sorceress Liana Hellish had been a much more dire threat when they had emerged, the threat almost overwhelming the forces of the worlds. It took the tragic sacrifice of Court Wizard Donald to vanquish Hellish, outright banishing her from this plane of the universe.

And so, with the heroes living happily with their descendants and with their successes, all looked well for the time.

The Oceansburg Gran Museum was undisturbed that night, aside from a scuffle with a very odd thief indeed, who claimed to have seen "Walkers", and "dark and white things". After escorting the young man from the building, it had been discovered he was a deserter from the military.

He had been simply serving in his capacities as a soldier against the Remnants, when all of a sudden his eyes had glazed over, and he started to rant and scream. He had ran from his position, and nobody had been able to find him for around five weeks.

And that he would resurface now, clothed and acting as if a common thief...it beggared questions about what would bring this on.

Something had stricken him with such vicious madness that he had ran from his post, his loved ones, and all those who cared for him. Not even his erstwhile lover had known where he had ran.

The only thing the thief said before his arrest was that something was going to happen in the museum that night, and that he alone could prevent it from occurring by damaging the Hell's Vortex. The age old contraption functioned as a vortex that kept the mad tyrant of the last age within its swirling arms.

No one knew whether Lord Cavendish lived or died, even during that day, when science had advanced even further. All that was known was that the Vortex was inescapable, even though the method of its creation was yet unknown.

Thus, with the enigmatic Old Lord out of sight and out of mind, the deserter was hauled off. The security guards ended their perimeter sweeps for the night, and everyone went home believing that everything was right.

Nobody was around the museum that night except for the odd scurrying mouse or two. Not one of the anthropomorphic sort common in the Disney Kingdom, simple mice, simple sights...until the Hell's Vortex started to rumble with a shuddering ambiance.

Everything seemed to quake and waver for a brief moment, security cameras shut off as if to not see what was about to be seen. A wellspring of energy began to form, surging, black, like a geyser of crude oil from deep within the earth.

Seemingly unending darkness, pouring out of the once inert device, a loud, disturbing scream echoing from the Vortex as if the forced emergence pained even it. The force of blackness caused the ceiling to quake and dust to shake loose.

And then it started to consolidate, forming slowly into what appeared to be a humanoid form. Orange-red eyes with the intensity of fire. Spread black wings ready to take flight. A figure that could be identified due to the negative forces associated with it and yet the awe it commanded...truly, either as god or devil.

This dark figure's features slowly began to tame themselves, as if adjusting to the world around it. It was slowly starting to show a more human nature, as if returning to a nature it felt closer to.

Skin, pale, as if this individual had not seen the sun in many years, bleary, glazed over blue eyes seemed to emerge from the red pits that existed just moments earlier. The figure's wings vanished for a brief moment.

He was handsome beyond any means, an unearthly kind of handsome - uncanny in some way shape or form. His black hair was greasy, badly combed, matted to his head. This thin, slim figure did not resemble that black winged entity that emerged moments earlier.

Yet there was no mistaking it; they were one and the same. A buzzing sensation filled the air, the small, scurrying annoyances (to the guards) stood as if mesmerized by a figure both great and terrible.

The man-like individual stretched his arms and cracked joints to awaken himself from a stupor. He had not walked for many years. Not since the days of old. Not since he was betrayed twice over. He remembered who he was as he stood there, taking everything in.

"...Hey, world, its me. I'm Wolfang Richler. And I'm back in action!" He remembered the betrayals, the loss, the love, the horror, the internment...and the irony when he saw his erstwhile captor enter the same circumstances as he himself.

A beautiful scenario that had to have been dreamed up in whatever plane inspired the greatest of ironic fates. If there was ever a hell for Lord Cavendish, it was the hell he created himself, the one he fell into. As far as Wolfang had gleaned, this world was seeing a large number of really exciting wars.

He had longed, then and there, to join the festivities, but sadly he had been unable to partake. He now looked around, feeling like he had missed out on so much.

However...

The new prisoner on Wolfang's empty block had been all the sorcerer needed to know. That his containment was not absolute, that this horrible device created around him could be escaped. And now, with all that he had done in there, he had finally escaped the Vortex.

It took a massive amount of his magical power, his terrifying might would need to be recharged with rest, but he for now needed to know where he was. By all appearances, it was a museum of some sort. Glorifying statues...images of past battles...people charging embroidered upon cloth, pictures of grand occasions.

The world, he could tell, shuddered, it fluctuated and pulsed. Subspace was open as always, the pathway used by Keyblade Masters and Travelers to reach worlds. To wreak their own whims. And all defended by a simple mantra of "no-telling" the people on those worlds, as far as he remembered.

A policy of enforced ignorance that even Wolfang found disgusting, if only for the fact it prevented people from really knowing all they could know. Why, with the right knowledge, the possibilities were endless.

Now, he decided, lets see who was pegged with the world's least desirable job. It seemed carrying a key was just like holding a magnet that told people "victimize me".

He looked over the picture of a team of people standing triumphant at the end, apparently, going by the caption. The spiky brown haired boy with innocent eyes and a...a _KEYBLADE. _

**_KEYBLADE KEYBLADE KEYBLADE KEYBLADE KEYBLADE KEYBLADE __KEYBLADE KEYBLADE KEYBLADE KEYBLADE_**

And his silver haired friend too. So many others. A young woman. A red haired youth. Some spear wielders...ohh, yes, Wolfang thought, bringing his hands up and grinning in a child-like way. This looked all so exciting! They looked epic in this pose!

"Yes, yes! I'd love to meet these fascinating young people! I-I burn with passion! I need to see them in action! I need to see every swing of the sword!" Said Wolfang as he quaked with glee, his clenched fists near his chin.

Though he could tell just looking at the kid with the key that he had won with a lot of losses. Things had happened to him. He had lived through a lot of really horrible circumstances. Wolfang knew what that felt like.

Would not stop him from doing what he wanted, but he could recognize something similar to himself in Sora. Could it be? Could that boy be...he'd need to check.

He read the caption aloud, "Victorious Team KH. May this commemorate them here for generations to come." Someone had been naughty in this world, telling them things. He guessed the order of the day had changed a bit.

Wolfang checked the date, looked around, and suddenly went from smiling to frowning, with the speed of a crack of lightning. There were so many, many commemorations. So many heroes in this war. One which was apparently over for a good amount of time, he'd guess.

A simple wave of his hand displayed the current date, which he compared to the date he looked at from the painting. A dissatisfied snarl showed on his face, "Too late. Far, far too late. Absolutely disgusting. They'll be too old and withered...of course they let themselves get old. Of course they do."

Babbling to himself a little, the man-like creature suddenly pinched himself on the face, showing that he had gotten an idea; "Yes...yes...that'd work. They're young in these pictures, and we all know what young people do..."

The seemingly bored young sorcerer looked around the room, at some scenes also depicting Team KH fighting against someone. These valiant little heroes marching ever up the hill against the villains of the act.

Wolfang looked at them as if he was a grand author, arranging his characters in his head before committing them to paper. And he had just about decided who the villains of this new epic were going to be.

He knew what he had to do now. This did not have to be a fruitless escape. He might not have been able in this day and age to achieve what he wanted to achieve, but there was still a chance for him to get SOMETHING out of it.

This museum might as well be a temple, with all the scenes of glory given to these victorious, scarred heroes. They had won the war, they had made their history, and now the worlds lived according to what they deigned.

In some ways, these deified people were not so different from him. Was what they did really any different?

Wolfang simply pointed one hand at a statue of someone or other, blasting off the head with a bolt of bright blue force that emitted from his hand. "I see the temple around me, but now, let's see if I can find my way to the Gods."

The young man then considered his form. These rags would hardly do. They showed altogether too much of his most human form. It was a nice form, but he doubted it would be appreciated if shown like that.

So with a wave of his hand, his rags seemed to melt and transform, becoming like the clothes he saw on these brave members of Team KH, though not identically. He made sure to add his own little stylizations.

The sorcerer then looked back at the now-dormant Hell's Vortex, and smirked. There was still a use for that old dreary thing just yet. But for now, he needed these false gods on his trail. What to do...what to do...he bet the realms were all fairly boring by now.

It was about time to liven up the joint, breath some life into this happy ending! But first, Wolfang thought as he started to walk out, doing a jig all the way, he needed to make some phone calls to some old friends, see if they're still around.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: The Field Trip

Jonahs yawned as the World Bus stopped at the station, students beginning to rise from their seats to go outside, to see the world they were going to. He however saw nothing to really be overly excited about. His father had taken him to Oceansburg several times in his younger days; it lost most of its mysticism to him.

He yawned again despite seeing someone standing in front of him, "Gimme a break, Eva, not like they'd go off with a student back here. Can't I sleep a little more?" Clad in a white t-shirt, jeans and sneakers, the relaxed form of Jonahs was slumped in his seat.

His hair was light brown, like his father's, and indeed, it seemed there was a lot of Sora in Jonahs, though he really took after his father in terms of, at times, lazing about. Though one should never mistake this in Jonahs for actual slacking.

The young man enjoyed his rest, but when called upon, it was clear where he stood.

Right now, though, Jonahs was enjoying the look on Eva's face way too much to get up. She finally just thwacked him over the head, "Get up, Jonahs! Do you really want to test everyone's patience?"

Ah, Eva, she was a fiery blond girl, odd maroon eyes, though personally he found them rather pretty. She was dressed in a skirt and shirt, not overly skimpy, but he decided to give her reason to think he was looking at something that was not on display.

He gave her the most cheesy, perverted grin he could muster. She turned bright red and brought her hand down to karate chop him again, though this time he caught her hand, smiling up at her when she blushed slightly at this.

"I was up. Just thought you looked cute like this." Where he got this streak of "testing people", she'd never know. It certainly baffled her.

With that, Jonahs got up and let Eva go, and she sighed, "You're so damn weird...fine, just come along. Everybody's already off the bus."

Jonahs nodded and got up, stretching his lean form, making sure he had everything together, then checking to make sure nobody else left anything behind in the bus before departing it to join the class.

Among the students, Setanta sighed at the persistent small blush on Eva's face when she and Jonahs emerged from the bus; "Got trolled by Jonahs again, huh Eva?"

She glared at him, and he took it as a sign he should be quiet now. Eva might be willing to tolerate Jonahs – for the reason basically everyone had already guessed was love, she disliked anyone even suggesting that the regular occurrence of Jonahs "testing" her was in fact regular or a repeated behavior.

With that, the class went off, after the teacher dispensed with a warning to Jonahs to get more sleep the nights before any future school trips.

As the field trip continued on, and the main city of Oceansburg drew astonished gasps and the slipping sounds of cell phones being drawn to take pictures, Jonahs just sighed. They did this field trip a lot. Why couldn't they go somewhere interesting?

He supposed that this place WAS interesting to those that grew up hearing of this "capitol of the worlds", but what Jonahs would've done to see it during the heights of the Sneer administration rather than the current Conservatori Administration.

He wished Marcus had been able to come along, but for some reason he backed out of the field trip at the last minute, claiming there was some sort of family drama to it. Though Jonahs did smile a little at the fact he had gotten to go with Eva and his other friends.

Setanta was a son of a friend of the family, and was Jonahs' preferred practice partner. Well, he enjoyed practicing with Eva and Marcus too, but theirs had been a friendship that started up early in their youth.

Jonahs absent-mindedly tried to follow after the teacher and the rest of the group, slightly resting his eyes a little as he walked. His father had taken him to a certain museum here, he remembered, where he had seen a large number of artifacts from the old days.

He wondered, briefly, if his father could ever show him the fabled Keyblade. Or if Jonahs would somehow need to prove himself worthy of summoning one himself. Like that was gonna happen.

As he was deep in thought, Jonahs ended up walking straight into a sign, and he felt his world spinning a little, and he ended up running down a different street than the rest of the class, and by the time he was capable of telling, he didn't hear their foot falls.

His eyes open and aware now, he was definitely in "Serious Mode", and he knew from stories his father had basically pushed on him that even in the Capitol City of the Alliance there were some hints of crime and other activities.

Keeping his mind active now, he looked around, trying to trace his steps back to the group as he had been advised to do when the teacher thought he was sleeping, but he always found himself wandering around the street areas.

Jonahs briefly considered the idea that there might be someone pulling something on him, and he looked around, suddenly finding himself having walked all the way to some sort of park. It looked like there were not many people out at this park, resulting in a rather eerie "abandoned" appearance to the place.

Even though Jonahs was not armed, he remembered a few little spells his father had taught him just in case he found himself separated from a weapon he could use to defend himself. Jonahs might have been a tad lazy, but he was far from truly inept.

He felt a strange tinge of fear run up his spine, a sensation he quelled almost instantly. It was an odd feeling, like he was being watched by an uncanny entity, something trying to portray itself as human, but failing in this pursuit to just enough of a degree to make it seem like it did not belong in this world. The gaze was harsh, judgmental, and full of edges that made the hairs on his arms stand up.

He said nothing, hoping that whatever was watching him would take the hint he was not the conversational sort and-

"Hello, Jonahs! You look lost...need some help?"

That was unexpected. It sounded like the voice of an entirely too energetic man. Someone who just by the sound of their voice was excited by everything. Yet, he could tell somewhere in this voice was the uncanny entity. There was also the fact it somehow knew his name.

He managed to find the "person" speaking, and looked up at a well dressed, black haired young man with bright blue eyes, sitting on a tree's limb like he quite simply belonged there. His face was smooth and young, full of unformed identity. Yet, somewhere in that almost innocent face was an intimidating factor – like staring into the true nature of the sun.

Jonahs managed to bring a smile to his face and straightened his posture, addressing this odd individual, "Well, since you know my name, would you mind telling me yours?"

The black haired man stretched his back while remaining sitting on that tree limb, then waving his arms back and forth before relaxing again, "My name's Wolfang. Not Wolfgang. Just Wolfang. Comprendo?"

Jonahs thought he had heard that name somewhere before, but decided to make nothing of it. "Well, that is a pretty weird name...but, why hang out in a tree, Wolfang?"

The "young" man cupped his chin in one palm and stated, "Its just more comfortable in an elevated area, I find. More like home. And on the subject of names...So, Jonahs, were you named, perchance, for the story of Jonah?"

Looking, confused, at the man with the grin like a cat, Jonahs asked, "What do you mean by that?" He had never heard of any stories of Jonah, but it appeared the man in the tree found his ignorance incredibly amusing.

Wolfang sighed, appearing to figure something out then, "Oh, never mind. After all, it only makes sense."

Jonahs decided to ask and see if this man was responsible for the odd feeling from earlier; "So, were you responsible for me getting lost out here?"

There was a silence, Wolfang looking almost happy that Jonahs had asked him this question, and then he jumped down out of his perch, levitating on his way down and lightly touching the floor; "You could say I did. Well, mostly because I yearn for company. You could say I've been alone for a pretty long time, and you're one of the first people I've gotten to talk to."

Talk to, Jonahs decided, meant screw with. This guy was definitely up to something. But he decided to simply engage him further rather than force confrontation, "...Fine, so if I talk to you, you'll let me go back to my friends?"

Wolfang walked about, grasping the back portion of a chair and sitting down before continuing the conversation, "Oh, sure, after all, I have other things to do. People to talk to. Things to do. Y'know, I'm a busy guy, but never too busy for friendly conversation."

That keeping someone lost and unable to rejoin their friends counted as friendly to this guy told Jonahs there was something he definitely did not know about his partner in conversation. Either he had some pretty warped ideas of friendship, or he simply did not know better. "I'm not so sure this could be considered friendly."

Wolfang sighed, noting this in a bemused way, "Well, yeah, I'm not very good at making friends, I'll admit. Well, Jonahs, just one more question before I let you go. What, above all else, would you wish for?"

Jonahs thought of the boring days on the Island, of the boring mock fights, of the boring trip to the capitol...he did admit, he had a romantic idea at heart of the worlds when his father challenged their despots and monsters. He remembered the old stories, the glorious tales.

He remembered that nothing was really being done on the Islands. He wanted to go, to explore fantastic, exciting places. Surely there were still worlds out there, ready to be explored. Jonahs thought of this for mere moments before making up his mind.

Jonahs let out a breath, seemingly releasing any of his uneasiness before answering, "I...I would wish for some excitement. So I could know where to go, what to do with my life." By The Keys why was he telling this to a weirdo who liked standing in trees and feeling up public chairs?

Wolfang simply gave him a slightly eerie grin, and said, "Well, that is a good wish...you just want to know where you belong. We're more alike than I thought. I can grant you your wish. Just sit tight and watch...you'll have your excitement before long."

With that, in between blinks of an eye, Wolfang was gone. And Jonahs saw his friends and teacher just a bit ahead. Where had he...where had they...he admitted, this was more eerie than he cared to admit. Just who was Wolfang? Why did he want for conversation so much?

Even as Jonahs rejoined the group and was, again, scolded for his reckless behavior and wandering off, his thoughts were on the enigmatic stranger who seemed to know all too much for his comfort. As they walked on, Eva asked him, "What's wrong, Jonahs? You usually come up with a sarcastic remark when you're scolded...did you run into something?"

Eva knew that Jonahs got himself into trouble all too often. Some lazy genius. She knew one particular case in detail, and took that as her lesson to ensure that the son of Sora would not be harmed again. Not on her watch.

Jonahs answered after a pause, "I met some weird guy...he knew my name, even though we never met. He said his name was Wolfang or something. Said he could "grant my wish". I'm...not entirely sure what I just met."

Eva seemed to clam up after that. While Jonahs had drifted off, seemingly in some sort of trance worse even than any of his lazy boy antics, some police had briefed them on a case they were investigating. The Gran Museum had apparently suffered intrusion well after closing...from someone inside the Museum.

It was like he spontaneously just existed inside the building, and apparently he used some obscenely powerful magic to escape, including turning a pair of guards into stone statues. He then escaped the museum, blew up a squadron of police chasing him, and then vanished into darkness after that.

It was looked at as simply a rogue, malevolent magic user who had simply traveled into the Museum for reasons unknown, and not, as Eva suspected at the time, a Darkness aligned individual who perhaps sought the Hell's Vortex.

She had a very personal connection with who was thought to be the lone inhabitant, but she and her family did not share that information so readily. The only ones that knew were Sora and Riku, and once their lives ended, the secret died, she thought morosely.

Jonahs noticed she seemed deep in thought, and lightly touched her shoulder, "Hello, Destiny Islands to Eva, Destiny Islands to Eva, we lost you there for a moment."

She brushed him off, but continued walking. "Wolfang is a criminal. He's not to be trusted. He turned a pair of young men to stone, and murdered numerous others to complete his escape...he...didn't try to hurt you, did he?"

Jonahs looked utterly shocked by the revelation. He had thought Wolfang was a little bit...no, a lot weird, but he had not thought Wolfang was the kind that murdered people. Then again, what, exactly, was his aim in contacting Jonahs? What did this guy want, after all, there couldn't be two guys in the city with the same ridiculous name.

Jonahs thought about what Wolfang had said about excitement. He shuddered lightly at the implication. What had he just invited into his life? Just who was this guy, in all honesty? Given the advanced magic he had been a witness and subject to, he would say there was more to this guy than just bad magic.

"...Eva, if he was really a criminal, then...what did he want with me? He asked me for my wish. I told him. What...What does this mean?" Excitement. Such a word seemed so innocuous, even desirable earlier, but now Jonahs was starting to see the dark potential in such a vaguely worded wish.

Eva looked down as they started to approach one of the historical sites, "I...don't know. All I know is that he is bad news, and you should tell the next policeman you see that you had contact with him."

At that, however, the teacher hushed them and started to go on about the site they were at. "This plaza is where the original representatives from the Worlds joined to form the Alliance, led first by President Sneer, a most noble individual who led us out of the Imperial Era ruled by the brutish Cavendish Empire, and into a new order of prosperity and progress."

Jonahs now looked pretty interested. He wanted to hear more. Who were the original representatives, where did they come from in all, and who picked them? However, that was apparently left out in favor of yet more historical trivia. Including rumors, old happenstance, and myths about the area. Including that there was supposedly some old king's ghost out looking for vengeance or something.

And Jonahs once again yawned, drawing the teacher's ire yet again, and exasperated sighs from his fellow students, though it looked like Eva likewise was not at all enthused by the gossip touted as real history.

He looked out at the surrounding areas, getting an odd feeling. He still felt he had done something pretty murky. He had told Wolfang Richler about his "dream", and...there was just something about that man that made Jonahs think there was something he had set out to do now that he had someone else's wish.

And worse, he had no idea how far Wolfang would go to see that wish fulfilled.

-The Imperial Remnant-

Aino Linoak looked out from their little bunker's door, checking for any of the Alliance troops. He breathed a sigh of relief when it finally looked like all was clear. He looked back over at his sister, her fierce face still showing focus, she was still ready for battle. Both siblings clenched an old Imperial Sabre, both wore an old Imperial standard military officer's uniform, and both were now only two out of ten of the Remnant left.

Aino was a tall, muscular blond young man, easily in his mid twenties, though he had never lost the passion of his teenage years – if anything, it had intensified over the years.

Aino's sister Linda was a harsh faced, tall blond woman wearing a similar uniform to his own, and indeed, both resembled one another very well, as they should, for they were fraternal twins.

Their last big resistance was over. He guessed it was only a matter of time. Though he and his sister intended to go down fighting, with those lordly ancient men who founded this Empire as their witness, he would cut down as many as he could before they killed him.

Aino came from a proud family – throughout history, they had served the Empire, always rising to the status of Colonel or above, with Aino's late grandfather in particular being a figure of pride within the Linoak family.

His granduncles fought in the Midnight Faction, opposing the hegemony of the Alliance in the new order. And Aino's father Gentrick had led the resistance until he died and passed it along to his eldest son, as was the tradition.

He knew it would ultimately end with death, but his family had served, and his older brother had served, and all were now dead. Aino cursed the Key Master day in and day out, wishing he could have some time alone with the old man.

It was all Sora's fault the Empire, and then the Midnight Faction's New Imperial Axis, fell apart. He had done terrible damage over the course of the war, and if you believed the Conservatori Propaganda, he played a hand in the downfall of Cavendish himself. The mere suggestion of such enraged Aino to a boiling point like none other.

That was when the all clear status vanished before their eyes. People were approaching their bunker. Going by the sounds of swords being drawn, it was them, soldiers of the Alliance.

Aino gripped his saber tightly, looking over at his sister. Each was, they acknowledged, the only one the other could trust. Both siblings had been very close when they were growing up, as there were few other familial figures in their lives.

They had joined this supposedly ended war together, and they would fight it together until either they died, or there were no Alliance men left in the universe.

The others of the Remnant returned from patching up their wounds, ready to go down fighting. A push at the door, two more pushes, and Aino raised his weapon. "Come on, you Alliance Dogs! Aino Linoak dies on his feet!"

Finally the door gave, and troops poured in, and Aino charged. He knew death awaited him. He wanted to see his mother, his father and his big brother again. He relished death. He swung with his saber...

And Aino hit something with the consistency of sand. His blade parted the soldier standing there with such ease he was left standing there, utterly shocked as the soldier of the Alliance, his uniform, and his weaponry, all collapsed into sand.

As Aino looked around, he noticed soldiers that were once men of the Alliance, who answered to that conniving President, were now mere sculptures of sand, standing with the same expressions of grim acknowledgement that they entered with.

The Remnant advanced forward, and destroyed their pitiful enemy with the same ease a child would have in shattering a sand castle. No blood, no screams, no shrill begging of the dying. Aino was forced to acknowledge that something truly bizarre had happened.

Dear sister Linda got done smashing one sand soldier into nothing but a cloud of dust, making sure she crushed him into nothing, and asked, "Is this some sort of hex you conjured, brother?"

Aino shook his head, and sighed, "I know no hexes nor do I have the ability to do this in any way. We have no Magicians...whatever has done this is some form of creature beyond the mortal ken."

There was a slow clap that ushered forth, and all the sabers once again were drawn and ready, pointed at an individual sitting on top of the group's table. He had certainly not been there before. None of the Remnant had ever even seen that man before.

Black hair well conditioned and long, bright blue eyes that seemed to shine so much they reflected sunlight shining in from the opened door. Clothed in a similar way now to an old Imperial Officer of the highest rank – this man resembled the old commanders who received their authority directly from Lord Cavendish.

The man smirked widely, and gestured, "Come now, I just saved you all from a really gristly death. Is swords ready to kill really the appropriate way to show your gratitude?"

Linda demanded while pointing her sword at him, "Speak your name, Sorcerer, and why you deigned to assist us. What do you want?"

The man slowly floated off the table, reclining backward and stretching his back, "My name's Wolfang Richler, and you could say I'm your best friend. You people have the potential to excite the worlds to a state never before seen. Believe it or not, I've heard of some of your families."

The man vanished, appearing next to Aino, and the young man bristled slightly when Wolfang lightly brushed Aino's blond hair with his hand, "You're of the Linoak Family...truly a noble lineage. Too bad you don't have an awesome sauce sword. Oh wait – You have ME for your best friend!"

The Imperial Saber in Aino's hands vanished, replaced near on instantly with a longsword of a design seemingly suited just for Aino's style of swordsmanship. It had a black blade that seemed to hiss and release a black smoke from the middle.

The pommel curved forward, two half moon shaped designs with a pair of ruby "eyes" at the middle. The hilt was well made, coated in well tanned, incredibly conditioned leather.

Wolfang spoke as if a salesman as Aino inspected his new sword, the Remnant distracted from the oddity now standing on the table again; "That would be the Chaos Blade Zeinalt. I made it myself! Simply swing the blade and you can cast your fury in a wave of force that can down an airship!"

Aino grinned at that idea. He was no longer doomed to die with this in his hands.

Wolfang stepped up his game, "So, with that display of my friendly intentions, I suppose you can all see I am no fiend. What do you say we keep ourselves in the giving season?"

Nods all around. It was almost like someone was smiling upon them, Aino decided, sending them this bizarre figure to give them a chance to strike back at the Alliance. Wolfang then looked at Aino's armor and outfit, sighing, "So little defensive abilities...oh, wait, I have _just_ the thing!" Another snap of his fingers precipitated more use of his magic.

There was a shimmer around Aino, and light black and white armor with ornamental, slight horns on the helmet formed around him, perfectly fitted. Wolfang seemed to click his fingers a little before thinking of a name, "That is the Hazard Armor, definitely a must have if you're gonna be traveling worlds. It also makes your friendly neighborhood Heartless see you as a Friendly."

Aino gasped. This armor allowed him to make the Dark Realm his ally. A fitting counterblow against the Curse-Bringer. There was chatter among the troops that caused Aino to beam, chatter that he was going to be a great, new general of the Empire with these boons from someone they immediately dubbed the Dark Angel due to his appearance.

The Imperial Remnant Commander watched as Wolfang looked over Linda. "Despite using a saber, you prefer a polearm, but you don't have a really good one, this, I can fix!"

Linda was initially suspicious of how it seemed this man could read her mind, but her objections were cut short when he used the same magic he used to give Aino his sword, once again activated with a snap of his fingers.

Wolfang snapped his fingers, and Linda found herself holding an onyx shaded long pole, ending in a large axe blade with two heads, the two connected at the top by a part that resembled half of a circle.

Linda whispered, "Now this is a fitting weapon for cracking a Keywielder's skull." It was as he said. While she was good with that saber, she was better with a polearm like this.

"Good...that is good to hear, because that is Exsealer the Splitter. That blade can phase through things before hitting, and can turn magic and little displays of power against their user. Use with care~" Wolfang said as he showed his lopsided smirk.

Linda regarded him after demonstrating by cutting only a tile on the floor after phasing Exsealer through a chair, "You can count on me, Richler."

Aino decided to see what could be done about reaching possible other Imperial Remnant troops and people who were imprisoned for their agitations. This armor, these weapons...they could finally strike back against the Alliance.

"Just make sure that you make the worlds a very exciting place in the days to come. Make sure that nobody can relax." Wolfang said as he cupped his chin, evidently thinking about something he considered entertaining.

"...Why do you want us to do this, and why do you specify excitement?" Aino asked, he knew that people who came bearing gifts like these, in the old stories at least, always had a price tag somewhere.

"Oh, I'm doing this for someone else. Someone who asked this of me, from the very bottom of his heart. You understand, don't you?" Wolfang put on a pitiable expression.

Aino understood almost instantly, he remembered his grandfather and his father before him, who had left a message in his journal asking Aino to restore the empire to its rightful place in the worlds, and avenge the countless fallen who died at Keyblade Master Sora's hands and by his actions.

Aino nodded in the affirmative, grasping the handle of his new blade tightly, "I understand, Wolfang. And I will give you this grand disturbance you desire."

"Good to hear." Wolfang said as he vanished from the area, leaving the Remnant to their plans and the inevitability of conflict.

~~The Office of Perseus Sarasho~~

Perseus Sarasho looked at the approval ratings chart with a mixture of disdain and disgust. Just another partisan project from his rival for the mayoral seat, and not even something he should be all that surprised about.

Destiny Islands had most certainly changed in the intervening years between the end of the war with the Midnight Faction and its allies, and the current time of peace. Some called it The Eternal Calm. Perseus called it the Age of the Banker.

It was a mark of shame, he insisted, that the great war heroes of the previous age would join such an ignoble profession, and he made such known. He knew it made a goat of him in the eyes of a substantial number of people in the populace. Mostly in people who fought in the battles of the previous war.

Sarasho was no stranger to combat himself, though at thirty, he was far too young to have fought in that great war. What he had done was partake in a number of "Quells" of the Heartless when they inevitably surged up in places.

It was no strange notion to him that he had inherited the ability to call one of those mystic blades from his father. Sarasho's father Perdus Sarasho had wielded a keyblade during the final attack on the last fort held by the Midnight Faction, the Fort of Cetorburg. He had achieved high honor and become a War Hero, though not on the level of the famed "Team KH" Sora, Riku and others who grouped with them.

It had always confused Sarasho why his father was not more famous than them. His father had fought harder, he used much more lethal powers, his magic was flung with the intention to kill, he brought a tower crashing down, killing the Midnight Faction grunts within. His father had been acclaimed as the Blood Dragon of Cetorburg...

Yet, Sora, Riku and those others were always the ones mentioned for their actions at Cetorburg. It boiled Sarasho's blood. The man clenched a fist and looked at the reflection in the window.

Even though his age had advanced, he could be easily mistaken for someone still in his teenage years. He was a dynamic figure, tall, thin and very well muscled, a heavy crop of black hair rested on his head. Stark, thin features full of angles defined his face. According to some, he was too severe, despite his appealing appearance, to be called handsome.

This perspective on him was compounded by the eyepatch he wore over his left eye, ever since he lost his eye at the age of twelve. While it had been replaced, he covered his new eye for reasons related to its...capabilities.

He wore a black overcoat over a white cotton shirt, red strings spun through several places on the shoulders of his coat, an overturned heart and X emblem embroidered on his shirt, juxtaposed over a sword – the symbol of a Heartless Hunter. His black dress pants were complimented by black boots, a series of metal pieces on the front of the boots.

Sarasho was in all appearances a valued, more than worth while member of the community, and if one believed his neighbors, he was always impeccably polite in person. The only place, it seemed, Sarasho enjoyed high approval ratings was in his home Island Linscald.

He was far less quiet in his criticisms of the Keywielders who, now in their old age and in the status of War Hero, were seemingly unable to be criticized without the repute of the critic taking a very sharp decline.

Indeed, Perseus noted in opening the fifth letter on the subject, people believed him to be against enterprise and peaceful, economic interests within the Islands. Normally, any other politician would put out some grand statement to try to say how this was not true, use name calling on the accuser, and divert the issue to some other scandal.

To tell the truth, he did somewhat find himself missing the war economy. It made the heroes of the age worth something to the world as they were. It let them do what they did, and be welcome for it, and be celebrated, and see their works elevated. Appreciated as doers, not just as artifacts of an age, praised only for their survival. Not be forced out of the business as soon as a calm came in the fighting, and made to become be-damned bankers.

So yes, Perseus Sarasho was against economizing, he was against enterprise. He despised these profiteers who only saw world transportation as a means to develop their own finances. Originally, worlds were traveled to prevent evil from taking root.

He tossed the letter to the floor, gripping his hands together tightly, thinking intensely about what to do. Sarasho was not getting any younger. He was a man of thirty, he had missed his war, and now, he, a man who felt at home in wartime economy, was forced to play along in a Destiny Islands where his type was disdained.

His glaring green eyes settled on an image on his desk, of the Newspaper detailing some sort of crime that happened out in Oceansburg. The place this calm had radiated out of. Bunch of idiots, he thought as he read through the story, "Putting that artifact in the main museum floor...what sorts of idiots would think to do that?"

He dismissed this story of the black winged creature as just creative embellishment by those who had watched the affair, though the turning to stone portion was undeniable due to pictures of the two so affected guards.

This was certainly more exciting than the usual thing he went through as the Deputy Mayor. Usually all he had to do was command the odd Heartless Quell, but now...could it be this was the link into excitement he wanted? It certainly did seem like something that could lead into interesting things to come.

Breathing more calmly now, he decided to deal with what he could, and worry about achieving currently impossible goals later on. "Shalor, I have something I need you to do." He only needed to say it once.

The figure clothed in all black, numerous sigils like the one Sarasho wore on his chest evident across this figure's armor. Its face plate resembled the rook piece in chess, and he remembered well how he recruited this "bodyguard". He had to best Shalor in combat, no easy task mind you, and only then would he be pressed into service.

The black armored figure asked, "What is it, My Lord Sarasho?" A mechanical, monotone voice, moderated only by an odd wheezing sound, like breath amidst his words.

He had to know more about that black winged figure that some people had allegedly seen and or had described "-I want you to investigate the figure mentioned in this paper, this intruder in the Museum of Oceansburg. Once you do...I would like to organize a meeting with Riku's grandson. I believe he was named Kadaj..."

As far as Sarasho knew, his father had told him once that Riku's grandson was named for someone who Perdus had described as nothing but a biker punk.

"My Lord, he has a number of grandchildren. Are you certain you wish to speak with the one who is named Kadaj?"

"Yes, Shalor. I am curious as to where he stands on the issues, and his opinion in regards to his father and grandfather. As I remember hearing, it appears the grandsons and sons of these heroes cannot summon the Keys."

Sarasho held his hand aloft and easily summoned his, the long black blade with four thorn like blades branching off pointing forward, "Yet here, I am capable of summoning my Blade. Perhaps a time of strife is coming. All the better, Shalor."

"All the better indeed, Lord Sarasho." Shalor agreed, whirring pieces coming to life again as he moved out to fulfill his tasks. Shalor and Perseus were allies ever since the incident that led to their meeting.

Sarasho looked out his office window at the modern, industrialized community of the Islands, thinking of the Islands where, it was said, Heartless had first appeared so many years ago. "We have abandoned the traits inherent that gave way to the rise of Sora, Riku and numerous others. Financial interests even now corrupt us, and it will not be long before we become a nation of banks."

Sarasho envisioned the Destiny Islands burning in the fires of war, men women and children slaughtered, and gave a bitter grin, "What we do in coming days may be the only thing that can stave off a disgusting future. Distasteful actions now to avert the devastating tolls of war later."

Shalor then asked, ever in a quiet, robotic monotone, "Then I suppose it is time...I will contact Hound-Dog in Oceansburg." With that, Shalor stepped out of the office, his black cloak and ebony-colored armor's exit from the scene brightening it several levels.

Sarasho then spun in his chair and looked at the figure that now stood visible behind him. Wolfang let out a sigh of relief, "Whew, we couldn't talk properly if that guy was there. Sheesh, you have a scary bodyguard...what world does he come from?"

Sarasho shook his head, "I found him on a rather desolated plane – he did not seem to belong. If anything, I'd say he destroyed that world himself. So, really, I wouldn't know."

Wolfang chuckled to himself, and looked outside, a vague look of disdain in his eyes, "We are rather similar people, you and I. In fact, we should be allies. Not quite friends..."

Perseus nodded, a grim smile on his face, "I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"Same deal here," Wolfang replied in a blithe fashion, "But as far as allies go, I really cannot do anything here without you, Percy. And you cannot execute your own plans without the ease with which I travel these worlds."

Perseus seemed to actively contemplate it, he knew a good deal just based on the ease with which this creature traveled and the ways it spoke that it was in all likelihood not something with the interests of the worlds at heart. He was some sort of monster, loosely confined into the shape of a man.

Wolfang just as well thought about Sarasho. A devious Keyblade Master who went into politics, and now schemed vaguely against the order everyone else seemed to enjoy. Just as much as Wolfang saw similarities between them, he also knew he couldn't be unaware of Sarasho's manipulative streak.

Both of these people decided, silent at first, that they would need to slightly trust one another, and make a commitment of alliance at a later date. For a time, there was only silence in the office of Sarasho, and then, slowly, the hands of the two individuals raised, arms stretched.

And before long, Sarasho and Wolfang had shaken hands. Neither expected very much out of the other, but both decided to share a small portion of their plans with one another.

And neither of the two men expected even this miniscule trust to last long, and even if they did come to an understanding and ally, neither expected the other to remain loyal. There would be a double-cross somewhere in their relationship.

Sarasho decided then that he might as well make the most of this. He knew some people he wanted to add to his forces, and he could not do that without Wolfang. "Well then, to start, I would like you to contact a few people for me. Get me Briadant Ray and Morgan Hirath."

The thirty year old Key Wielder brought out two files on the both of them.

The file on Briadant Ray said he was a fiery revolutionary fighting in a newly found world, going against a King who ruled like a dictator. Ray's personality portion said he was a rather paranoid individual with slight megalomaniacal tendencies.

As Wolfang read the weapons portion, his eyes widened, and he shook his head while chuckling outloud, "...Are you sure you didn't doctor this photo? I mean, this weapon is just...kinda...well, its nonsense."

The weapons portion said that Briadant Ray wielded a giant axe with propelling jets on the back to hasten his swing. It also mentioned he had used cybernetic modifications on his arms to avoid certain risks associated with the weapon.

Sarasho simply gave a stern nod. War had changed. Not much, but as weapons advanced, perhaps he could enforce the return of the Keys.

"Whatever floats his boat," Wolfang decided, and he decided to look at the next one. He just hoped they wouldn't have to clean up any messes.

Morgan Hirath was a sell sword with loyalty only to the person paying him, and even then, it was iffy if you were getting out of it without a backstab. He was also rather old, but going on the picture provided in the profile, Wolfang mused he aged gracefully.

Again a rather odd weapons profile, and Wolfang looked over at Sarasho, "Yeah, it won't be too difficult for me to find this guy. I'll just listen for backstabs and ricocheting bullets."

Morgan Hirath's weapons were a pair of combining revolvers with the ability to have its shots fly around until they hit something with blood. The black haired "Angel" could definitely see that little stipulation backfiring.

Perseus then slid the two profiles over to Wolfang, who took them, and smiled, "And in exchange for this service, Percy, I would like it if you would be so kind as to lend me Destiny Islands when the time is right."

Sarasho decided to test the waters in regards to this statement, and asked, "For what, exactly? I am only the Deputy Mayor, I may need time to prepare for my inevitable role in whatever plan you have cooked up..."

Wolfang simply looked outside the office, and scan over the surrounding area. He looked detached, as if he had almost forgotten he had been in a conversation.

"...Wolfang?"

"Oh," The black haired "man" realized he had drifted off, and chuckled to himself, rubbing the back of his head, "I was just looking over this World. I am going to need someone in command of this Island's forces for when the Alliance is at war."

It did not take a rocket scientist to discover what Wolfang was thinking – this madman was thinking of somehow waging war on the entire Alliance, and he wanted Destiny Islands to play a part in the war of the century.

When you put it like that, Sarasho decided, he really couldn't bring himself to refuse. "Very well. I will await this war you promise, Wolfang. Just, if I may ask, why? I know why I want war, but, well, why do you?"

Wolfang seemed reminiscent for a moment, as if recalling someone he deemed a friend. Breathing in and out, the "angel" smirked, stating in a flippant tone, "Someone told me their wish for excitement. I'm the foolish type that tries to fulfill random people's wishes, you see."

Sarasho had to restrain himself from snapping his fingers in how sure he was that he got Wolfang's "true nature", but he decided for now to keep that to himself. Even as Wolfang once again vanished, Sarasho looked back to the entrance to his office, taking his seat once again.

"Time to begin things here." As Shalor worked outside, Sarasho started to look into the affairs of the Mayor of Destiny Islands. It was time to find enough dirt to justify his ascension to the position of Mayor.

~~Mordryd's Hut~~

The Son of Liana Hellish only knew that he was the son of a deadly sorceress, and that she told him such was something to be proud of. That he should grow up tall and strong to become the sword to her sorceress. But now, mother was gone, and her son was left in an ignominous state. He stole to survive. He had to scavenge the best from this bedeviling Alliance.

If his mother had won her war against them, and that blasted Disney Kingdom especially, then he would be the prince of this place!

She had given him potions to make him become the son he deserved to be, the man he needed to become. And indeed he had grown tall and strong, handsome too, if Megha spoke truthfully. His dirty blond hair was stained with sweat and toil, eyes blue and cold as ice staring out of his head.

Megha was ugly, to be certain. She was one of the few people who didn't raise a fuss if he took something from her shop. He thought it was that she liked him for his appearance. It certainly did make things easier for him.

He wore only what he could afford, and not much else. He was a prince swindled of his true lands, and left to rot here, in this outlying world of Radiant Garden, and forced to look at the happy faces. People so glad that the threats were gone. People celebrating his mother's absence.

They were living peacefully in an endless calm. And they loathed Mordryd, invariably, whenever the truth came out. Well, maybe it was his thieving that set the perception, but certainly they hated the son of the sorceress who killed a beloved wizard of the court.

Mordryd gave a sick little chuckle as he thought of the weeping. They had not, in all likelihood, cried half as much as he did when he lost his mother. She gave him life, she taught him her alchemy though regretfully not her magic, and...and...

His sobbing was interrupted by someone pounding on the door. It'd come down any second. It was a rather pitiful little place he found himself in, after all.

Oh, it looked like another guard. Pounding on the door of his little abode. He was not about to go quietly to be judged by the toadies of the Alliance, particularly that petty little bastard Alric Maynes. He simply enjoyed snuffing out any remains of challengers to his reign.

When people spoke in the street about Alric possibly being involved in silencing disputes, Mordryd believed it instantly. It was Alric, after all, who told him that stupid lie that he was never to be Prince of these worlds.

If he had a sword of magic. If only she left him something to defend himself with.

That was when the door fell down and the guard rushed in, holding Mordryd against a wall almost instantly, pressing the saber against his chin with his free hand. Too fast, too trained, too...damn. This never happened to Princes in stories.

"Mordryd Hellish. Do I even need to say what you're under arrest for? Your thieving ways have finally gone too far. I suspect Alric will say for your hand to be cut off...I'd be happy to do it now, though."

Taking the blade away from Mordryd's face, he pressed it against the young man's arm, making him squirm in pain as a light trickle of blood flowed down his arm. Sadistic freak...

Mordryd was just about to insult him when something even more horrifying than the sudden invasion happened. The man quite simply exploded into a large amount of a disturbing watery substance while holding Mordryd, letting the young man rebalance on his feet.

He regarded his stained red rags before tearing them off and chuckling, "Shows you to touch the son of the mightiest sorceress to ever live." Maybe his mother smote the guard from beyond the grave...

There wasn't even enough of that person to fill an ash tray, and Mordryd wondered briefly if this was his magic manifesting itself. He could make people explode into a rain of gore simply by hating them enough...

His image of that was broken when someone else spoke up, walking in, the door flipping itself back up behind him, "So, you're my old friend Liana's son. Mordryd, right?" The man immediately extended a hand and Mordryd's cut started to heal, a numb sensation settling in at the spot.

Standing right behind where the guard had been before his spontaneous explosion was a fellow underclass individual clad in simple, ragged clothes. His black hair, though, was nicely combed. And he was also, apparently, a friend of his mother.

He could tell – there was a really odd sensation in this guest. He was some sort of magical creature.

Mordryd turned bright red, and looked around for something else to wear, "My mother's friend...I-I am so sorry...I shouldn't have bared my chest like that. It was horribly crude."

This odd intruder simply shrugged his shoulders, "If you've got it, flaunt it, my man. Well, going by what Lieutenant Ludicrous G. Gibs said, looks like Liana is no longer with us..."

The black haired man was taken aback when Mordryd snarled and pounded his fist into a wall, "My mother is not dead! I know it! They simply threw her into another dimension or something! I will not accept it!"

"Woah, that's some enthusiasm, which I can definitely use," Mordryd seemed to give a silent show of being confused, prompting the man to continue, "Ah, yes, I should introduce myself. I'm Wolfang Richler. An old friend of your mom."

Wolfang. That was an _old_ name. A name that, to some who remembered the old days, possibly beyond even the Empire's existence, still commanded fear.

Mordryd remembered his mother telling him stories of the Black Winged Angel, the Wolf King, the Angel of Darkness. Yes, this was definitely within his power. "So, you're the Angel of Darkness...did...did you come here to-"

"Yeah, I can tell what you're thinking, and I'm everyone you think I am," Wolfang explained with a beaming expression evident on his face, "I came here to give you what you deserve. You are the Prince who has been promised a Kingdom. Just stick with me, learn from me, and you'll become the greatest King of the Worlds in...well, in ever!"

Mordryd knew he needed a magic tutor, and unsealing his true power had been remarkably hard to do. The greatest he was capable of right now was a small spark. Not even enough to light a fire. "...Y-You'll teach me?"

"I'll do one better! Here, have a library worth of knowledge from about a dozen worlds!"

Wolfang lightly touched Mordryd's bare chest with his palm, and the young man felt something pass through Wolfang into him, it felt like an explosion of noise and force within himself, a great awakening to a power he barely understood. A voice shouting within him. His eyes burned, he could barely see, his arms and legs felt numb...

Mordryd sank to his knees in front of a grinning Wolfang, who stepped to the side as another guard ran into the hut after his partner had been gone too long. That was when a large icicle spear skewered the second guard, impaling him to one of the hut's walls.

Mordryd started to rise from his kneeling position, he could see again, and in much greater detail. He could feel again, he could taste the delicious pain his tormentors had felt. He could smell the blood in the air.

His magic was awake. He was going to become the heir to his mother. He would shake this whole damn Alliance to its core!

Mordryd looked over at Wolfang and asked, "Did you make me able to do that?"

Wolfang nodded a little, "Its a trick I learned from visiting a far off world, I simply passed knowledge in a billion words into you. Knowledge is words...words are power...and power is magic." Wolfang demonstrated himself, a bright orb of fire forming in his right hand, which he then squelched simply by clenching the hand into a fist.

Mordryd's left eye was now apparently distorted – rather than its normal color, and Wolfang found his eye's new appearance very interesting. What looked like a crown looked down on from above, and several concentric circles around that.

He had not seen such magic in a really long time, and it always kindled a form of curiosity in Wolfang. This was all so incredibly interesting, but he had other places to go. People to see. He just had to make sure Mordryd was going to make himself useful here in Radiant Garden.

"So, in exchange for this...what is it you want?" Mordryd knew very well that Wolfang would never give him something for nothing.

And he was right; "For one thing, I need you in command here. Something really exciting is about to start up, and I need someone here able to take charge. You can be trusted to do that...right?"

"Of course! I am the Prince who will have his crown!" Mordryd could picture it now – his thralls, handing him his crown. The fake princes and princesses tending to his needs, the mindless masses worshiping the ground he walked on...

Wolfang's mind was on other things. He needed to make this place the Hollow Bastion again if the plan was going to succeed.

Well, the first few portions of it, anyway. Right now, Radiant Garden was a stalwart ally of the Alliance. But with a Son of Liana taking the reins, taught by the Wolf King himself, why, that could change.

Not in the way the citizens would want it to, but then, Wolfang didn't really care what the little guys thought about his plan. He wasn't like Sarasho – he saw no reason to go waah and cry over some disapproval.

Mordryd interrupted another of Wolfang's spacey little episodes, and asked, "So, how am I to go about it? I mean, people here don't like me."

Wolfang tapped his chin a few times with the fingers on one hand, and eventually came up with something, "You know, there's a Spell Circle your mom was preparing to use, around this Bastion, and other areas. However, as it is, the Circle cannot be used, without the other ones. A little repurposing, however, and you have a city able to become yours in a flash."

Mordryd became immediately excited. This was all so sudden, but so incredibly welcome. After a hard life on the streets, to finally have someone willing to put him on the throne...it was almost too much!

Wolfang then continued, "But what is a wizard without his staff? Here, if I'm gonna give others toys, I think you deserve a real...killer." Wolfang grinned and snapped his fingers, a staff appearing, floating before Mordryd.

It appeared to be made of ebony wood on one half of the staff, and ivory on the other half. As the two watched, the halves shifted, it was ebony on top for ten seconds, then ivory. Mordryd also found himself gawking at the human skull placed on top, with a spell circle written on the forehead. The skull was also painted ruby red, and there were lines of tears going down from the eye areas, which were colored bright blue.

Wolfang explained as he circled this staff, taking joy in this, apparently, "This is a very powerful staff called the Wolfsoul Staff. It works like this..." Wolfang picked it up himself and pointed it outside at a pair of arguing people.

A faint line of light shot out and hit a rough looking young man. He evidently took offense with how the woman he was arguing with was so stubborn, so he picked up his hammer and started smashing her until she stopped moving.

Mordryd looked slightly horrified at the gruesome violence, but then he remembered he himself had killed a guard with his new magic, so he managed to quell his revulsion. "...W-What did you do to them?"

"The Wolfsoul Staff has a werewolf's soul imprisoned inside of it. Put it there myself. What it does is simple, really. Aside from its ability to channel your magic and make it stronger, it also lets you charm people into violent, destructive or treacherous behavior. Use this to conquer your city."

Mordryd supposed this meant he would need to learn some measure of deceit and manipulation to make good use of this weapon.

As he was about to ask a question, he found himself looking at air. Wolfang was gone. Mordryd looked down at the dead guard, smirked, and chuckled to himself, "Now lets see how good I am at Necromancy."

After forcing his door back up, black magic started to pour off of his fingers. Time to make mom proud.

-Castle D'Vania, West Wall-

Claiom D'Orlia looked out upon his subjects from the side of the West Wall of Castle D'Vania, watching them going about their lives, as usual, in fear of the vampire lord who lived in the old castle. Oh, Claiom was by now relegated to myth, but as always, a myth has its own way of influencing the world. And in this case, it translated to people fearing and hating his residence.

True, Claiom occasionally fed upon his subjects long ago, but that was only so he could continue, and he never drained enough that they would be dead or Turned. In truth, this entire scenario, as he saw it, could be blamed upon the dysfunctional peace the Alliance brought here.

True, they had said as much that their forces were responsible for the liberation of Orliennes, and that with the Dark Axis out of the area, Orliennes could return to normal life, as they were not a very important world.

Barely past the level of medieval worlds, really.

False, however, was that they did it alone. Alric Maynes lied about the nature of his triumph there, which he had used to propel himself to the Presidency of the Alliance. Claiom knew that personally very well indeed, and that was because he had fought the Axis, being called "The Darkstalker" during the conflict.

Being a vampire, however, Alric assumed he was out to replace the Dark Axis as the dictatorial power, and in his capacities doctored the treaty so as to station troops here, in secret, to keep an eye on the Dark.

Claiom knew the truth of that – Alric stationed them there to stop Claiom from ever leaving his castle. They maintained a disgusting, hateful rune around it that stopped him from leaving it. In a certain warped way, Claiom thought as he looked at a photo, now suddenly in the middle of a hallway, it was the old story.

Like father, like son.

Claiom had silver hair, a peculiar shade of silver-gray eyes that stared out of the dark, he wore his refined clothes, including a blue and black coat over a buttoned up frilled shirt, cotton slacks, and embroidered boots. Like his father, in most ways, thus.

His face could best be described as androgynously handsome, most paintings of him – mostly commissioned by his butler – depicted him as being unearthly beautiful, moreso than even the young woman who currently entertained his affections on her thoughts.

He was not so exaggerated. People simply liked to extrapolate things from the fact he did not have the most manly of faces. Even though some claimed he preferred to dally in idleness and some aspect of hedonism, Claiom enjoyed the odd carnival of blood every now and then.

Purely as a measure to keep his hand steady. Fighting and battle was in his blood. He looked out at the waning portions of the sun, from his hallway window. "The night comes...a brilliant white moon, to illuminate the world in dark light. But...a shadow cast forth...most interesting."

He suddenly pirouetted on his feet with casual ease, deflecting an incoming attack. It was stronger than any normal intruder's attempts, better trained than any misbegotten bandits. It was a classic introduction, from one being of darkness to another.

The Darkstalker smiled, a sincere look shifting over his face, "Welcome to Castle D'Vania. I must say, I could recognize you. You've been around longer than myself, but it seems you only got younger over the years."

Wolfang Richler leaned forward after their exchange of blows, one knee slightly touching the ground, his hand unhurt even though he had sustained an attack from Claiom. He was now clad in similar refineries, befitting someone of high-standing lineage. A large smile was on his face, showing he deeply enjoyed that exchange.

"Its been a long time...oh, Claiom! I barely recognized you. You're your father's spitting image...you were just a little boy when I saw you last."

Claiom gestured and a table materialized out of the shadow, with two cups of tea sitting upon it, the tea red and seeming like blood. But Claiom was not the type to mix weird stuff with his tea, especially not blood.

Wolfang took a seat on a suddenly existent chair, and clasped his hands, "Thanks. Man, seems that my current mission is taking me from one corner of the universe to another..."

Claiom drank some of his tea, and nodded, he knew of what Wolfang was after. He had been after it when his father ruled this castle. When it was named differently. So long ago.

"Currently, though, I am looking for excitement, for someone who I hesitate to name." Wolfang showed a goofy smile, which only served to heighten the feeling Claiom got that he wanted to somehow get help here.

Claiom decided to speak his mind in this regard, "You know as well as I do I cannot leave Castle D'Vania. Alric Maynes made sure of that..."

Wolfang smirked darkly, "But if you could leave this castle, you'd hop on over and help me out, right? Old family friends and all...because, you know, I could destroy the rune keeping you here. Just give me the word."

Claiom was astounded, he knew Wolfang was powerful, but the way the Rune was constructed, it would take a lot of magical power to break it. "You...could? If you did, in gratitude, I would do anything you ask. But first..."

Wolfang decided he liked where this was going, "I could I can and I will...just, what do you want, first?"

Claiom showed a serene, calm smile, and said happily, "As Alric Maynes took my home from me, poisoned my subjects views of me, and lied of my nature, I must take retribution upon him. His son, Edric Maynes, is a brutal despot disguised as a governor. Allow me to end him."

Wolfang had heard, in his travels over the world, of the political power the Maynes Family had obtained, and the barbaric displays of it Edric had made. It would've impressed Wolfang if it wasn't all so disgusting, futile and pointless.

"Go right ahead. I have no plans for the brat."

Claiom grinned widely, "You should enjoy the slaughter I have planned for him. Watch it, if it pleases you."

Wolfang shook his head, "Nah, I have other things I have to do. More plans, more scheming, more arrangements to be made. I'm making one hell of a legion here. Empire Loyalists, rebels, sell-swords, pirates, Liana's son, and now you."

Claiom remembered Mordryd too, and nodded, "Liana told me about her son once. I'd heard he was a thief in one of the Alliance worlds, though. Pity, what happened to Liana..."

Wolfang actually showed a real, sincere frown, "Yeah. I actually really miss her."

Claiom supposed Wolfang was not always quite so horrible. He showed moments like this when he was less a terrifying abomination who spread horrors, and more a man who had lost a lot in the passage of time. Claiom was no saint himself, but suffice to say, he could cry for this devil.

Both of them finished their tea about the same time, and Wolfang showed a typical grin as he started to fade out from the area, "Sit tight. That Rune is coming down in short order."

Claiom simply sat there, waiting. He knew what was coming. He felt it. And he smiled as he knew what was to come. His freedom. He could run in the darkest shadows, free again from the restraints of that man's Rune.

A sudden shaking ensued, freeing dust and spider webs from walls as Claiom rose from his seat. He could see the rune's eight spikes shaking, slowly breaking apart. He could taste the fear of the soldiers stationed here as their rune failed.

Slowly, piece by piece, the seal upon Castle D'Vania failed. It was met by the riotous screams of citizenry that was once set in their business below. Claiom knew the Seal Breaking would probably renew interest in the Castle.

And he would welcome bandits, intruders and treasure hunters as he always did. The silver haired young man, as soon as the seal fully vanished, dissolved into a large amount of bats that fluttered away into the darkness. He traversed the Dark Realm now, to do as Wolfang wished.

And so, that is the end of the first chapter. In which we see what Wolfang decided to do with his time. The next chapter will involve the heroes, and a rather funny – or at least I thought so – As You Know segment to fill anyone in who did not get the gist of the verse I'm writing in.

See you guys next time.


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